


Harry Potter and the Challenge Responses

by Vipersweb (Rhianona)



Series: Harry Potter LAS Round 1 [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-31
Updated: 2010-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-14 06:43:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 5,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/146499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhianona/pseuds/Vipersweb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of challenge responses for the First Round of Harry Potter Last Author Standing</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Harry Redone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Challenge #1: Queer Eye for the Straight Guy remake one character

"According to his friends, Harry's hopeless," Carson began, eyes widening as they watched the video of Harry. He tsked. "What _is_ he wearing?"

"He can cook," Ted offered.

"But, knows nothing about alcohol," Jai countered, ruining his happy grin.

"His hair is a disaster," Kyan commented.

"I can see why they called us," the last of the Fab Five said as they saw the inside of the house. Thom wasn't sure he could make it better. Sharing a look with each other, they smirked.

They all loved a challenge.

***

"Harry just needs a push in the right direction," Hermione earnestly said.

"The poor dear has such awful hair," Molly clucked. "He could neaten it, but he's refused."

"I would love to visit with his godson," Andromeda Black stated, looking regal. A rambunctious toddler sat in her arms, his hair cycling through different hues. "The house is a disaster! Teddy could get hurt."

"Uh…, Hermione and mum both say he needs some new clothes and stuff," Ron said, looking confused.

"Potter has a responsibility to his family name to look respectable," Minerva McGonagall stated, looking as stern as always.

"He _is_ the Savior of the wizarding world and should look the part," Minister Shacklebolt said, shrugging.

 _***_

 _The first inkling Harry had to any of this was when Kreacher announced that "dirty Mudbloods were in the front hall." Harry just sighed at the epitaph. Kreacher wouldn't change._

 _He wandered down and blinked in surprise. "Uh… hello?"_

 _"Oh dear god! It's worse than I thought!" Carson exclaimed. He took a turn around Harry and shook his head. "I'm going to need hours with him."_

 _Thom just whimpered. "How can I make this better?" he asked, pointing to the dark decor that made up the majority of Grimmauld Place. He started walking through the house. "Are those… house elf heads?!"_

 _"Harry! My name is Jai and we're _Queer Eye for the Straight Guy_." He went on to introduce a bewildered Harry to the rest of them and explained why they were here. _

"Hermione organized this, didn't she?" Harry asked.

"Stop chatting! We don't have much time," Carson ordered. "You, go with Kyan _right_ now while I figure out if there's anything salvageable in your wardrobe." He shooed them out of the house and they got to work.

***

"Garbage… garbage… garbage…," Carson wailed as he tossed each and every piece of clothing to the floor.

***

"I'm not going to bother trying to redo the entire house. I'm just going to focus on the dining room," Thom said. "The walls are actually solid wood paneling, so I'm going to clean them and varnish them a light brown. That will make the room look bigger and more cheerful."

***

"How does an eighteen year old not have any music?" a bewildered Jai asked.

***

"Does he realize he has a great wine collection down here?" Ted asked, wiping the dust off yet another premium bottle.

***

"Nothing done to my hair ever works," Harry warned.

"We're going to put product in it. Now, some people are scared by this sort of thing," Kyan explained, "but there's really nothing to it." And he demonstrated how to use it. Even Harry had to admit his hair looked better, as if he had deliberately made it messy. He even started to like Kyan… until the man dragged him to the moisturizers and facial washes.

***

"Carson, he's all yours!" Kyan yelled up the stairs and asked for a martini.

"Does dirty Mudblood want it shaken or stirred?" Kreacher grumbled.

***

"I can't do much in the time we have, but I'll do my best," Carson began. He dragged Harry into an upscale men's store and started shoving clothes in his direction.

Harry spent the next few hours trying on different things; he barely took in what Carson was saying but if he knew Hermione, she would take notes.

"See? These are clothes that fit. You have a dynamite ass, Harry. You should show that off," Carson purred and stroked Harry's arm.

"Right," he said, and clutched the bags in his hands.

***

"The house has great potential" Thom explained. "You don't need to do much, just get in some lighter colors and change some of the more… dated decor." He went on to detail exactly what he was doing to Harry's dining room and why and made suggestions for the rest of the house.

They both ignored Kreacher's mutterings in the corner.

***

"Do you have anyone special in your life?" Jai asked him. Harry rubbed the back of his neck.

"Um… I don't know." Images of Ginny danced in his head. They really hadn't talked about their relationship in the aftermath of the war.

Jai shook his head. "First of all, you need to project a more self-confident image."

For the next two hours, Jai instructed Harry on his body language. He had never realized just what his body language had said to people.

***

"I snooped around your wine cellar and found a case of this fabulous red," Ted said.

"I have a wine cellar?" Harry asked.

Ted grimaced and continued. "We're going to make this the centerpiece of your meal."

***

"Alright Harry," Jai said. "The rest is up to you. Your friends are coming at seven. Good luck!"

"Right. Um… thanks," Harry said and smiled.

It looked forced.

***

"What do you think?" Jai asked.

"I'm so nervous!" Carson admitted, sipping his martini.

"I think Ted had the easiest part," Thom complained. "He already knew how to cook."

Ted really couldn't protest that. "Oh look! He's out of the shower."

***

Harry followed the instructions each of the men had given him, from his hair to his skin to his clothing.

Cooking the meal didn't take much effort on his part and he even remembered how to uncork and pour the wine properly.

With minutes to spare, he finished setting up the dining room for his guests.

***

The stunned looks on their faces were almost worth the hassle.

Almost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally more well-rounded, with an actual beginning and end and more humor, but well... word limits had me cutting out bits and pieces and I foolishly didn't save the original version. I'm not in love with this version, but I ended up moving onto the next Challenge, so...


	2. A Lesson to Learn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Challenge two: prompt is 'leather'

The soft, supple leather molded onto the silky weight of her breasts. They rose, pale and round, tightly clasped in the bodice, displayed for everyone's attention, just this side of decency.

Each breath she took sent a frisson of pleasure streaking through her body with a sharp reminder of what she wore. The musky smell of the leather teased her senses, mixing and mingling with the aroma of the flowers that decorated the room and the perfumed scents other guests wore.

The looks of shock, of interest, of determination, of want -- of _desire_ \-- on the faces of men and women alike, placed a small, cat-like grin on her face. This was even better than her entrance at the Yule Ball in her fourth year.

She didn't think Lavender or Parvati would give her a dare like this in the future. Especially since the most eligible of witches and wizards lined up to greet her.

No, no one had ever thought that Hermione Granger would look as sensual, as dangerous, as _seductive_ as she did in black leather and satin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not happy with this and most people weren't either. I originally had a much different idea, involving Luna and Hermione and war trauma but it wasn't working. in the end, I threw this together and it really wasn't very good. On the other hand, I still made it to the next challenge, so it wasn't the worst. In this, I wanted to try and capture the sensations of leather.


	3. In the Sweet Hereafter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Challenge 3: prompt was 'Reunion'  
> warning: canon death of characters, as this takes place at the end of OOTP

He fell: through dark and through light; for mere moments and for eons; drifting to the ground like a leaf falling from a tree and plummeting to the ground with a great velocity that would surely leave him with broken bones.

It was over with an abruptness that left him breathless. He stumbled to his feet, his mind trying to grasp what had happened when Bella -- sweet, mad, Bella -- sent him through the Veil. He figured he was dead. No other answer made sense.

"Should have realized you'd be the first to join us," a much beloved voice said. Sirius spun around, his heart in his throat as he gazed with shocked eyes at the once familiar visages before him, ones he now only saw in his nightmares.

Messy black hair, hazel eyes almost hidden by rounded spectacles, a tall, lean form, a lithe red head with familiar green eyes hanging over his shoulder. They smiled at him and he fell to the ground, his mouth gaping as he took them in. "James? Lily?" his voice hoarse with shock.

"Who else would greet you, Padfoot?" James asked and helped Sirius to his feet. He hugged him and Sirius sobbed into his shoulder. Lily moved to embrace him too, and they had a strange three-way hug. It was almost too much for him. He had never thought to be reunited with his best friend and his wife again.

They murmured words of comfort as he collapsed into them. It could have taken years or mere minutes; Sirius didn't really know. All he knew was that when he finished, when he finally calmed down and stopped sniffling, he felt a clarity he hadn't felt since before that awful Halloween all those years ago.

"How?" he finally asked.

"You're dead," another male voice drawled. Turning, Sirius saw another familiar face: his brother.

"Regulus?" he asked and started forward before remembering the last time he saw him and halted.

"Brother," Regulus nodded and sighed, opening his arms for a hug. Sirius didn't waste time and flew into them; he remembered how close they once were, and how later, they eschewed each other's presence the moment he fled to the Potter's. How they ended upon opposite sides of the war. None of that seemed to matter, not now, not when he had his baby brother in his arms once again.

"What now?" Sirius finally asked and the Potters joined the two brothers.

James shrugged. "Now… you do what we do. Watch the living. Hope we won't see anyone we love join us until they've lived a full life."

"That's it?"

"We can't do much else," Lily said gently.

"But… Harry…" Sirius said and looked sad.

James and Lily looked pained and he felt the guilt he had felt ever since he had stumbled into Godric's Hollow to find them dead. "I'm sorry. It's my fault."

"It's not your fault!" James insisted and grasped his shoulder in comfort. "We were fated to die so that Harry could live."

"But…" Sirius started to protest but Lily covered his mouth with her hand.

"From the moment Voldemort heard part of the prophecy, we were marked," she explained.

"It's not fair," he said.

"No, it's not," James agreed. He looked over to Regulus and nodded. "We have a lot to tell you."

Sirius looked confused but they didn't let him wonder for long. Regulus explained that he had left the Death Eaters after discovering Voldemort had created horcruxes, something that horrified both brothers. It was considered such an evil magic that no Black would ever attempt it. As if that weren't enough, James told of the decisions Dumbledore had made about Harry, and all that his son had suffered, both before Hogwarts and afterwards.

"I shouldn't have gone after Peter," Sirius said and hung his head in shame. The fog that encircled his mind since his incarceration in Azkaban lifted and he suddenly saw all the myriad ways in which he had messed up.

"It's not your fault," James insisted, but Sirius didn't believe him. Just being here with James and Lily and Regulus forced him to re-evaluate his own actions, to see how he hadn't treated Harry fairly or looked after him like he should have. And now he was dead and couldn't change any of it. It wasn't fair.

"Stop your self pity," Regulus scolded and bopped his brother on the head. "You can't change the past."

"I know," Sirius choked out but it didn't make him feel better.

"We have a plan," Lily said and her eyes sparkled with the same hidden fire he had seen during the war.

"What can we do?" Sirius asked.

"Not too much, but we're going to do everything we can to make sure Harry doesn't join us anytime soon," James informed him.

"Anything you need," Sirius pledged. For the first time in a long time, he felt invigorated, felt like he could make a difference and maybe, just maybe, atone for all his sins.

"Here's what we'll do…" Lily began and the three men listened as she began to outline the limited ways in which they could help Harry defeat Voldemort. None of them wanted Harry to join them, not before he had lived a full and happy life.

Maybe later Sirius could process what it meant to be dead, could reconnect with his brother and learn who he was. Could forgive himself for suggesting Peter to Lily and James and going after him instead of protecting Harry. For not taking Bella more seriously when they fought and surviving to help his godson in the tasks before him.

So much to regret but now, with Lily and James and Regulus by his side, Sirius focused on the important task of keeping Harry alive. He could do nothing else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I liked this. It's not perfect. There are aspects that could be better done. But I more or less liked what I was able to write for the prompt. I mean, there are obviously strains of other things I was trying to get across that didn't quite work and I think if I had more time to write it, it would have been better.


	4. You're a Real Boy Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Challenge 4: prompt was "Coincidence"

It had taken a bit of maneuvering, but Harry had finally managed to escape the Burrow and, with that, the well-meaning fussing of the various Weasleys. He might hate Grimmauld Place, but it afforded him a measure of privacy and safety that nowhere else in the Wizarding world could. He needed the time to himself, needed to figure out his future without Mrs. Weasley's input… and needed to decipher the rather cryptic comment Luna had given to him earlier in the week.

 _"How does it feel to be a real boy now?" Luna asked, her feet dangling in the pond. Harry frowned in confusion._

 _"I'm always been real," he pointed out._

 _She smiled, shaking her head. "You don't have to dance on anyone's strings anymore unless you choose to, Harry." When he didn't respond, she giggled and started a new conversation about nargles and flipperwhips and other fantastical creatures._

He tried not to think of her comments about strings and real boys but her words continued to echo in his mind. What, exactly, had she meant?

\--

"Have you spoken to Luna recently?" Harry asked Neville, a bottle of butterbeer held loosely in his hands.

The other man shook his head. "No, why?"

Harry sighed. "Just something she said to me."

"She can be cryptic," Neville said.

"More so than usual," he complained. "She asked how I liked being a real boy now."

Neville snorted and shook his head. "She watched one of those… movies? Is that what it's called? The moving picture thing on the tellervision?"

"Television," Harry corrected, well-used to wizards who didn't seem to understand even the simplest of Muggle technology. "Who let her do that?"

"Hermione," Neville said. That explained it, then.

"So she saw some movie and decided I wasn't a real boy?" Harry asked and the confusion he felt echoed in his voice.

"I suppose," Neville agreed. "I don't remember the name of the movie she watched." He hesitated for a moment before continuing. "She once told me I was lucky to have my grandmother to protect me. That maybe if you had had one, things would have been different for you." Unspoken between them was that Neville could have been the Boy-Who-Lived and all that might have meant.

"Well… yeah," Harry agreed. For one, he wouldn't have had to spend ten years of his life in a cupboard. Or wear hand-me-down clothes that were far too large for him. But what did that have to do with being a 'real boy?'

\--

The talk with Neville gave him enough clues for Harry to try and figure out Luna's comment. Ron and George and Hermione all knew that the Dursleys didn't treat him well -- but he also knew they didn't really _know_. Why else would they not tell their parents about his treatment? Or take Dumbledore's side when he begged to spend the summers elsewhere?

It didn't take much searching to figure out that Luna had seen _Pinocchio_ ; it took longer to decipher what she meant by calling him a 'real boy.' He hated to admit it, but it took re-reading the excerpt from Dumbledore's biography he had seen in the _Daily Prophet_ all those months ago for him to understand what she meant.

Rita had accused Dumbledore of orchestrating his life; he had dismissed it then but it was more difficult to do so now. No threat of imminent death and no one hunting him down (except for crazed fans and how he loathed them) -- all of that meant he had time to consider her comments rather than dismiss them wholly out of hand. As much as Rita exaggerated or outright lied about things, there was often a small kernel of truth in her writings. So maybe, just maybe, she had been right.

Harry spent a night pulling together a list of thoughts and memories and evidence, seeking to disprove her theory. It didn't really help.

Dumbledore had placed him with the Dursleys; he had refused to allow Harry to stay anywhere else but with them; for some reason, Social Services had never been called on them -- and Harry knew that at least some of his grade school teachers had questioned why he wore such terrible clothing and not his cousin. The Dursleys had also never really hidden where he had slept in their house. A cupboard for a bedroom wasn't acceptable yet no one protested.

Was it mere coincidence that the wizard who introduced him to his parent's world had a deep prejudice against the Slytherins? Or that Mrs. Weasley loudly mentioned Muggles in a train station or asked her children how to get to the train? What about how Harry and his friends always figured out just enough to supposedly save the day when grown -- and trained -- witches and wizards couldn't.

How long had Dumbledore known Harry would have to die in order to defeat Voldemort? He had claimed he hadn't wanted to burden him with that knowledge but Harry also had no training that might help him. Was that why he had been sent to the Dursleys? So he would look to the Wizarding world as a refuge? So he would gladly die for it?

Harry didn't want to think that, didn't want to believe that he had lived an orchestrated life, that coincidence aside, the men and women he had looked up to had only seen him as a weapon to be used and little else.

As he examined his life in minute detail, Harry wished more than anything that he had ignored Luna. It would ease the ache in his heart if he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like writing Harry with Luna and/or Neville. I've always felt that Luna and Harry had a special bond with each other after OOTP. She just got Harry in a way his best friends didn't. And Neville just works for me with Harry for some reason. I know I didn't actually write anything unique in the fandom, but I did like what I came up with.


	5. Accidental Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Challenge 5: prompt was: "[character] catches a cold."

The sneeze echoed throughout the small house, followed by a cursed exclamation. James Potter peeked through the bedroom door, a box of kleenex in his hand as an offering; it might just save him from the accidental magic caused by Lily's flu.

"Lily-flower? Can I get you anything?" he asked. His miserable wife lay propped up on their bed, a mug of once-warm tea cooling on the bedside table and a pile of used kleenex overflowing the bin. A book, charmed to be read aloud, lay forgotten on the comforter. Her usually lustrous hair was lank with sweat, her green eyes bright with fever.

"I don't like being sick," she complained.

"I know," he said and placed his gift on the table. He used his hand to touch her forehead and grimaced. "You still have a fever."

"I ache, James. I hurt and I want to feel better."

"Poppy said I can't give you any of the usual potions, that it would hurt the baby," he reminded her.

"I know that James!" she said and grimaced as the accidental magic reacted to her temper and turned him polka-dotted. "Sorry," she mumbled.

He forced a smile on his face. "I know," and he kissed her on her forehead. Hopefully, it would wear off soon. "I'll bring you some soup. Remus and Sirius said they'd stop by later today too. Should I have them bring you anything?"

She shook her head and pouted. James wanted nothing more than to be able to wave his wand and cure Lily, but he couldn't. "Poppy did say if your fever didn't go down anymore we should try some more of that Muggle medicine you mentioned."

"Make sure you don't get me anything that's bad for the baby," she reminded him.

"I have the list of I can buy," he said. "I'll send Remus when he gets here."

"Thank you," she said.

He fluffed her pillows and tucked her in before heading back down to warm up the soup. Poppy had given him a long list of how to handle his pregnant wife while she had the flu, including which medicines she could take without harming their unborn child.

"Hey, Prongs! We're here!" Sirius called out as he gave a perfunctory knock and entered the house.

"In the kitchen!" James called out and hoped the relief he felt wasn't evident. It wasn't that he begrudged caring for his wife -- he loved Lily with every fiber of his being. He was, however, getting tired of caring for the ill witch, if only because of the random bouts of accidental magic that so far had been limited to changing him various colors or giving him random animal parts.

"I see the wife got you again," Sirius chuckled.

"For that, you can bring her the soup," James said and handed his best friend the tray he had prepared.

"Prongsie!" Sirius pouted but obeyed. James really didn't know what he would do without such good friends like these two.

"How much longer, do you think?" Remus asked.

"Poppy can't say for sure. It can't be too much longer, can it?" James asked and looked worried. "I can see why so many witches and wizards stop with one kid!"

Remus laughed. "I'm sure that's not why."

"Moony… you don't understand! Lily is sick and she's miserable so I'm miserable and I can't give her anything to ease it because otherwise it harms the baby. You know she's a powerful witch and the accidental magic just lashes out! I can't go through this again!" he whined.

"I think you'll change your mind," Remus said.

"You're wrong. But since you're here… I need to get some Muggle medicine for Lily. Can you pop around to the chemists? It's not like I can go out like this."

"No, I don't think polka dots… and is that a bunny tail?" Remus stifled a laugh.

James manfully -- or so he thought -- refrained from saying anything else and just handed Remus some money and the list. He loved his friends, especially when they came over and risked Lily's temper and accidental magic to help him, but he could do without their teasing.

"Be right back," Remus said and left the house again. James took the time to calm down a bit and drink some pumpkin juice. Given the quiet that had followed a surprised yelp and bump, he should see what Lily had done to Padfoot.

He really couldn't wait until she felt better. Never mind her desire to be healthy -- he needed it for his sanity!

Of course, as soon as he entered his bedroom, he tripped over the new ottoman Lily had decided to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had fun with this. I like the idea of pregnancy making magic wonky. I do think the ending could have been stronger.


	6. Frozen Image

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Challenge 6: Prompt was: "A single tear"

It was a memory he both loved and loathed. Loved because it was the last and only memory he had of her and loathed for that same reason. Red hair was fanned out on the floor creating a halo around her face; her alabaster skin glowed faintly in the darkened room; and her green eyes lay open, frozen with an emotions he had never tried to decipher, too scared to do so.

He knew, of course, the events that led up to that last horrible but beloved image. That knowledge didn't make it better. He didn't know her, didn't know what thoughts might have run through her mind in those last seconds of her life.

The most haunting aspect of the memory was the single pristine tear that glistened on her cheek. Did she weep for the death of her husband mere moments before? Was it anger or despair? Fear? Or maybe, it was one of relief, knowing that she would no longer need to fight or to hide. That she could finally have peace.

He wanted to believe that the tear was for him. That in those last seconds of life, as she tried to guard him from Voldemort and all the while knowing she had failed, that she wept for her son and his too short life.

Almost anyone else would assume the latter; Harry, however, had grown up in a household that hated his very existence. He wanted to believe that his mother's last thoughts were of him but a part of him -- the part that didn't believe anyone could ever actually love him -- couldn't.

A single tear… it could mean so much. And Harry spent hours trying to find meaning in his only memory of his mother. He loved and loathed it… and guarded it closely to his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Interesting story behind this one: I had originally misremembered the prompt as "one single tear" so had this whole elaborate fic planned out with Regulus Black and how he never cried but when he was dying after sending Kreacher away he shed one single tear. Than, when I checked the prompt, I decided that wouldn't work. Don't ask me why the difference of one word changed my mind, it just did. I'm pretty happy with this, though as it tends to be with my writing, I'm not thrilled with the writing.


	7. Balm to the Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Challenge 7: "Children show scars like medals. Lovers use them as secrets to reveal." ~ Leonard Cohen."
> 
> Pairing: Harry/Luna

No one has asked Harry how he got his lightening bolt scar in years. Not since he arrived in the wizarding world. The scar defines him, makes him instantly recognizable.

He hates it.

\--

"I got it in the car accident that killed my parents," he tells the school's nurse as she bandages a scrape on his knee. "I think it looks pretty cool." She gives him a distracted smile and sends him on his way.

The Dursleys hate his scar but Harry likes it. It makes him different, gives him something uniquely his own when he has little else that is _his_.

Before Hagrid arrives and introduces him to the Wizarding world, Harry never covers his forehead with a fringe.

By the end of his first month at Hogwarts, Harry wishes his fringe would grow faster to hide it.

\--

"Is that where…?" becomes the most common question witches and wizards ask about him. Never to him. They hold his scar in awe and see it as a symbol of victory, of being saved from an implacable foe.

No one seems to care about the price.

\--

By the end of the war, Harry has more scars about which no one ever asks. They all "know" how he got them. They are reminders of every so-called adventure on which he's been, of pain -- physical and emotional -- he's experienced… but no one really cares about how or why he got them, just that they add to his legend.

\--

The sun shines through the windows and Harry relaxes deeper into the bed. Luna lies on top of him, a soft smile on her face as she examines him as if searching for the mysteries of the world -- or maybe one of her creatures. He's too content to protest.

He shivers as her finger traces the lightening bolt scar -- faded in the days after Voldemort's demise but still present, still serving as an identifier for him. "How did you get this?" she asks.

He frowns up at her, wishes he wore his glasses so he can see her expression better. So he can understand why she would ask. "You know, Lu," he says instead.

She presses a fleeting kiss to his lips and leans her face closer to his. "How did you get it?" she asks again.

A breath, then two and he lets it out in a whoosh of compressed air. "The man who killed my parents gave it to me when he tried to kill me. It held a portion of his soul," he finally says, his unfocused green eyes staring at the ceiling rather than at her. It's the first time he's ever acknowledged what the scar really means and he doesn't want to see even a fuzzy impression of her disgust at his confession.

She hums and kisses his forehead, not reacting at all to what he has just said. "And this?" she asks, tracing the scar on his bicep that is the exact shape of a basilisk fang.

This time, he barely hesitates as he tells her of the fight with Slytherin's Monster and how it felt to feel his life drain away until Fawkes came to save him.

She sits up and the blankets pool around them as her fingers and lips trace each and every scar on his body. With each request she makes, he tells her what no one else seems to want to know. Luna doesn't ignore any of his scars and refuses to move onto a new one until he answers her question.

It takes all day but in the end he's exhausted and feels relieved of a burden he never knew he carried.

"No one's asked about my scars in years," he tells her as he cuddles her close to him.

"I want to know the real you," she says and he smiles. He doesn't know what he did to deserve her but he's determined to hold onto her as tight as he can.

"I love you, Luna Lovegood," he says and steals her breath away with a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I liked the prompt quite a bit but I think the end of what I wrote is a bit weak. I'm not sure what I would do to make this stronger, just know that it does need something.


	8. Challenge 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Challenge 8: Prompt was: "character has to pretend to be [character]"
> 
> Truth: I didn't participate in this challenge. I just couldn't get it finished in time. I liked the idea behind the prompt but couldn't get it out on paper. In fact, I ended up scrapping this and trying someone else and coudn't get that one done in time, so utilized one of my skips.

Before Hogwarts, before he found out he was a wizard, Harry had wondered what it would be like to be someone else. Had wondered what it would be like if he were Dudley and could eat all he wanted or have every little thing that caught his eye or interest. Had wondered what it'd be like to not have to sleep under the cupboard under the stairs or wear his cousin's hand-me-downs or eat scraps from the table.

He knew it would never happen, not while he lived with the Dursleys, but he couldn't help but dream.

\--

It wasn't until his fifth year that Harry once again wondered what it'd be like if he were someone else. A wizard without the expectations placed on him by one side and the hatred placed on him by the other. Without rumors of insanity or Voldemort trying to get inside his head. What would it be like if he were Ron? Or Malfoy? Or even an unobtrusive Hufflepuff, one whom no one expected to fight for them and save them from a wizard with decades of more experience.

He tamped down the wistful daydreams and went through the motions of his life, doing what was expected of him.

\--

After the war, witches and wizards throughout the Wizarding world wanted to be him -- but not really. Not who he really was. They wanted the legend, the hero who survived the Killing Curse for a second time and who defeated Voldemort with a schoolboy's charm.

No wanted to be the boy who grew up in the cupboard under the stairs, who lived with Muggle relatives who hated his very existence.

\--

Polyjuice potion tasted awful. The first two times he had tasted it, he'd not thought much of it. He'd been too young to worry about nailing the personality of Goyle the first time he used the potion and during the second time, he'd been more concerned about finding Umbridge and the horcrux than anything else. This, his third time was different.

The taste still made him gag. He grimaced as the potion forced his bones and muscles to shift, knowing he'd have to go through all of this again when it finally wore off. Mechanically, he drew on the clothes specifically made for this little venture. Their target -- the man he had become -- would never be seen anywhere without the finest of clothes. And he had to admit that the seamstress contracted to the Aurors had done a good job in simulating the style of the target, even if he himself felt uncomfortable.

He found it amazing that polyjuice could change one's outward appearance but little else. He was still Harry Potter, still had the same thoughts and fears and loves and hates as he did when he wore his own face and had his own body.

The potion could change you for a little while, but it didn't give you anything more than a fantasy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In some ways, I really wish I had been able to post this. I ended up finishing this one about three weeks later since I really did like the idea. OTOH, I don't know how well I managed the prompt.


	9. No Happy Endings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Challenge 9: Prompt was: "crumbs in the butter"

"I'm thinking about going back to the Muggle world," Hermione told Harry.

"To find your parents?" he asked, cradling Teddy in his arms, a position in which she had grown accustomed to seeing him these last few weeks. He had taken to his responsibilities of godfather to the son of Remus and Tonks with the same zeal with which he had approached ending Voldemort.

He looked good with the infant in his arms.

"That too," she said.

He tilted his head and turned his gaze onto her. "What do you mean?"

She sighed. "Has anything really changed, Harry?"

He furrowed his brow in thought. "I don't know," he finally admitted. "Dumbledore kept me pretty isolated."

She snorted, keeping her opinion of the Headmaster to herself. Once, she had idolized him, had believed he had all the answers and every so-called adventure in which the trio had found themselves involved over the years had been part of a bigger plan. Between the lack of true clues on where or how to find Horcruxes and the knowledge that he had set up Harry as a sacrifice, her admiration had turned to disgust.

"We won the war, Harry, but with little exception, not much else has changed. The Snatchers were all imprisoned and some of the Ministry workers are going to face trial for their actions, but there are still Death Eaters who are walking around free," she tried to explain. The frustration she felt towards the community she had adopted as her own but seemed to care little for her came bubbling out. "Malfoy's under house arrest and I know they're going to use Mrs. Malfoy's actions in the forest to their benefit. And what about Umbridge? Or any of those others who sat and worked in the Ministry this past year, continuing their jobs and turning a blind eye to what was going on around them." She let out a sigh and rested her head against her knees, her arms wrapped around her as if to ward off an attack.

"Change comes slowly," Harry said and gave her a sad smile. "I understand why you would want to leave though. I think we all thought that after we won, everything would be better. But it's not, is it?"

"I _obliviated_ my parents, Harry. I took their memories away and gave them new ones to save them. And I can't justify what I did anymore. How were my actions any better than what the Death Eaters did?" Hermione asked.

"Hermione, you did what you thought was right at the time. You were wanted just as much as me. If they could have found your parents… I think the only reason the Weasley's mostly made it out of the war intact was because they are Purebloods. Considered Blood Traitors, yes, but still Pureblooded." Hermione was a bit surprised by Harry's insight because he had rarely shown it in the past. However, in the days and weeks following the end of the war, he had slowly but surely started to think for himself, something that had surprised more than one witch or wizard.

"You know, I always thought that the Wizarding world was an amazing place. Somewhere I could belong. And I stayed with you, fought with you because I believed that once we won, once Voldemort was dead and gone, things would get better. That I wouldn't be looked down for my heritage and that I could bring my parents with me to Diagon Alley or even Hogwarts. But now… now I have to find them and see if I can return their memories and then…" she trailed off.

"And then see if they want anything to do with you," Harry finished for her. He reached out with one of his hands to console her. "I wish you could have your happy ending."

"Me too," she said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was voted out in this challenge. I interpreted the prompt in a very metaphorical manner; everyone else interpreted it in a more literal one. I thought it was some strange British euphemism for have flies in the vinegar or something like that. To be honest, I'm not upset that I was voted out. I liked the experience of this but I didn't love it. And while I liked how I interpreted this prompt, I also know it is derivative of other things I've written in this fandom, even with the same characters. So yeah... not my best effort. I almost wish I had used another one of my skips, but hey... I can at least say I made it to the last five authors. So yeah me!


End file.
